I crave paper
I long for its smooth space
Open fields of hidden words
Carriers of life
Forever anticipating the touch of a hand
The caress of a pen
Judging not content
nor the needy desire to speak
through silence
Glass Jul 26
the incipient
has salvaged the insides of a
censorious pastiche, where moiety details the nightstand
of expectation and sudden camaraderie
simplifying the closure of starvation that “promethean”
is visual ‘orange zest’
a
honeysuckle caramelization where there are two
romantics buried with guilt, and a master chess player that
recalls to be a citrus therapy and every "Sunday paper" is filled
with oceanic opulence discussing religious iconography
and I visualize a yellow moon cactus
obscene changes in a grey prolific office;
an expostulate (rescind) but avoidance is in an empty
peach pit; an exploitation becoming a strange
admiration

- G
Luna7464 May 31
If you are rock
and I am paper
then we fit
together perfectly

~h.m
Part 2
white wall patch on the floor a lonely broom in a corner, two
ft. from a crooked door. 

the foundation's cracked and slowly sinking. 110, hot, yet the sun has set & here I sit, alone,
just thinking.

the saying goes there's reason for all... missed my flight perhaps to answer some cosmic call.

these moments of solitude are golden ...my hand beckons me to procure pen and paper. the walls are all prepped no more need for a scraper.

so out pour the words, like a can of paint, flowing onto the
paper smoothly, with no restraint.
Stuck in Fort Worth 2018
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